Tomorrow I’ll have 17 weeks left to be pregnant. How shocking. After a first trimester that felt like it was six years long, it’s so odd to think I’m almost through with the second. I didn’t get on here to complain (haha, j/k), but things are still tough, even if they’re miles better than a few months ago. I stayed up late last night because of the UT football game, and it took me so long, this morning, to finally fall out of bed. I must have gotten out of bed and then crawled back in like two times. And so I was late for work. And then I harvested a bed (consisting of two 200-ft rows) of dry beans in the morning (what was left of it), and a bed of okra (one massively bushy 200-ft row) in the afternoon.

These are the kinds of tasks I could do so fast six months ago! I sailed through stuff like that. And sang cheerful songs and quoted movie lines to myself while doing it. But today—and I think the 90 degree heat, plus no breeze, plus the neighbors burning a HUGE pile of brush and covering the farm in smoke and cinders had a lot to do with it—I might as well have been a 75-year old woman. I was at least partially hydrated, though, so at least I was sweating and not passing out. But I mean, small comfort. Sigh!

I just googled “23 weeks pregnant blog” and read four blog posts about being 23 weeks pregnant, and they were so bubbly and chipper that I got irritated and came over here to rub my face. Will I get the second trimester bliss before it’s all over? It probably doesn’t matter. I mean, it doesn’t matter. Some people, it seems, love pregnancy, and others struggle all the way through. While picking okra this afternoon, I realized that I’m probably gonna struggle with various things all the way through, and I’m gonna have to get over it. I think I’ve been losing an abnormal amount of hair, recently, and Megan wondered if I’m having a thyroid problem (runs in my Dad’s side of the family). That would suck, as would high blood pressure—another thing I’ve been worrying about and forcing myself not to google—but the universe doesn’t owe me a fun pregnancy. At all. The universe knows this is a bitching helping of big, hard work. And that I clamored for months and months for it—pick me! pick me!!! please pick me pleasepleaseplease

Anyways. Instead of reading in my pregnancy books about thyroid issues and high blood pressure, I’m writing my address down on a piece of internet and tossing it in the water. This is where I am/was at 23 weeks. Experiencing something extremely new, that didn’t yet have its own place in my psyche. I guess I have work to do. Like, some feeling. I should try to do some feeling.

Marshall and I watched an episode of The Wonder Years tonight, and I was all stoic & resentful while Marshall is actually crying over there on the other end of the couch. When we’ve watched these in the past, I’ve been all about the nostalgia and cried my eyes out when Winnie’s brother died … when Kevin realized he and his sister had grown apart … oh. It’s a tearjerker. Every episode. And lately, probably (I just realized tonight) because I’ve been putting off feeling out my heart about my pregnancy/motherhood, I was all like, This is the most ridiculous show; they are NOT going to make me cry—ha—I completely refuse to be manipulated.” And then we talked about it, our different reactions to the episode, and ultimately I had the biggest most honest cry I’ve had in weeks and weeks. It was pretty awesome. Washes the windows, it does.

Probably now is a good time to return to Rilke.

Lastly, speaking of crying, I nearly shed a tear of gratitude when Marshall texted me on my way home from work: “I’m workin on dinner!” Oh my lord. It’s just amazing, at the end of a difficult day of work, to be told that one’s housemate / significant other is making dinner. Especially when one is pregnant and pathetic. And it was, indeed, worthy of at least one tear, probably more. He fried (?) chicken breasts in a skillet, toasted some buns that he’d made yesterday for our game day burgers, and sauteed this cool red lacinato kale from the farm (a new variety, my first time trying it) with honey and mustard. And some mustard and tomato. Those were some WOW chicken sandwiches. Also he roasted green beans to—oddly—perfection. He usually roasts green beans way too long. But these were, like I said, perfection.

That’s it.